Dark Rival. Brenda Joyce
Because he’d climaxed as many times as she had, and she wasn’t sure if she’d had dozens of orgasms or one single, endless one.
And she was pretty certain he’d had some kind of control over her orgasms, too.
She turned her head. “Tyrant,” she whispered, smiling.
He lay on his back, too, but his breathing was slow and even, and he was staring at her. Their gazes locked.
And he smiled at her. It was a surprisingly soft look from such a hard man, and it changed his entire face. He became too beautiful for words. “Are ye pleased?”
She beamed and turned onto her side, aware of his gaze instantly moving to her breasts and belly and legs, before lifting. She laid her hand on his magnificent chest. She traced a frightening scar. “Very pleased. How can you even ask?”
Was he relieved? Surely he knew he was supersexed. He simply shrugged, as if indifferent, but his gaze was intense and searching. “Are ye pleased enough to break off with yer man?”
Allie was confused.
“Brian,” he said softly.
Her eyes widened. She felt as if an entire lifetime had passed since the fund-raiser the other night. “He’s not my man.”
He absorbed that. Then, “Since when? Tonight?”
She grinned and rubbed his rock-hard pectoral muscle, then scraped her nails over his nipple. “I was going to break it off with him the night of the party.”
He nodded at that.
Allie realized, in shock, that his large but flaccid member was stiffening. How was it possible?
“Yer touching me,” he said softly, as if reading her mind.
“I want to touch you,” she said, staring and stroking the tight skin over his ribs. “Who are you? What just happened isn’t humanly possible.”
He sat up against a number of pillows, another beautiful smile playing. “Aye. No man can bed a woman in such a way. Ye should remember that.”
“As if any woman would ever forget!” Becoming serious, she sat up, too. She wanted to snuggle, but she didn’t—this was too important. “You vanquished three demons the other night as if it were a piece of cake. But you used a sword as well as your energy, not a gun.” Her mind began to really get into the game. “You said you waited five hundred–odd years for me.” But hadn’t Tabby said he was an older man?
He shrugged casually again. “Well, I’m a patient man.”
“How old are you?”
“It doesna matter, Ailios.”
But she was sorting it out. “Last night, in South Hampton, that was you, but younger, way younger—five hundred and seventy-seven years younger.”
“Aye.”
“Wow.” Allie sat back against her pillows, stunned and uncertain as to the significance of having met him a day ago, when he had been almost six hundred years younger—when he had come from the fifteenth century—and their being together now, a day later for her, but five centuries later for him. She’d been apart from him for a day; he’d lived through almost six centuries. She had a million questions. “How many of you are there? Is the sex always like that? Are you immortal? Why do you guys keep such a low profile?”
His smile flickered brightly again. “Yer so young, so pretty, so passionate.” He reached out and touched her cheek, then let his hand drift across her breast. Then he dropped it. “I am mortal. I will die one day.”
Allie thought about that. “I worship the Ancients. And when I see your aura, I can feel their presence—they are with you. You are blessed. They favor you.”
“Aye. Long ago, the gods wanted to save mankind from evil. They feared for their creation. They sent a great warrior goddess to the kings, an’ men like me were born.” He spoke as if it was an everyday occurrence and not a huge deal.
Allie laughed. “You don’t mean that your mother is a goddess, do you?”
He gave her a look. “My grandmother is the great warrior goddess, Faola,” he said softly.
But of course, Allie thought. He looked like a grandson of the gods. And how else could he screw all night like that? How else could he have the kind of energy to throw around that the demons had? “The demons are descended from Satan, aren’t they?”
“Some, an’ some are fallen Masters.”
Her mother had told her to trust a golden Master. “Is that what you call yourself? A Master?”
“We’re the Masters of Time, Ailios. I made my vows before the Brotherhood and God on Iona long ago. We exist to keep mankind safe an’ to serve the Ancients.”
Allie was intensely interested. “I have always been drawn to Iona. Even today, the ground there is holy. Wow. I felt you—the Masters—every time I was there!”
“Ye have great powers. They’ll become greater with time.”
Allie barely heard. She shivered with excitement. “Sworn before God—meaning, sworn before the gods, plural?”
“Aye. T’is one an’ the same.” He smiled a little at her again, this time sliding his hand down her arm. “Defend God, Keep Faith, Protect Innocence—our vows are simple but strong. A Master serves God and Innocence, first an’ last, always.”
She snuggled up to his hard chest and lean torso now. “That almost sounds like a warning,” she said, thinking about where she wanted to put her tongue.
His gaze blazed as if he sensed her intentions. He moved his large hand into her hair and grasped it.
Her heart went wild at the forceful gesture. But she was still and their gazes locked. “I’m not done,” she said softly. He’d teased—even tortured—her all night. A little payback was in order.
He almost smiled. “Ye talk too much.”
“Admit it—you love it.”
“I’m nay fond of great conversation.”
She slid herself halfway over his body. “Why are you guys so top-secret?”
He pulsed against her quad and sighed. “There’s a Code. T’is vast an’ even today, our scholars debate its many rules an’ meanings. But some rules are clear. The Masters are secret, Ailios, the Brotherhood is secret, an’ that is our law.” He slid his hand down her back, cupped her buttock and hiked her into a very appropriate position. She gasped with pleasure; he grinned. “Do ye still wish to talk?”
It had become really difficult to think, but she whispered, “Did you control my orgasms last night?”
His eyes widened with innocence. “How can a man do that?” He grasped her waist and gave her a lazy, sensual look.
“Hmm…someone needs a comeuppance.”
He gave in to a chuckle. “It’s up, lass, and ye ken.”
She sat on his hips and his eyes turned even lighter and brighter. “Why did the Ancients forbid your telling the world about who you are and what you do?”
He was now annoyed. Instead of answering her, he nuzzled her breasts and caught her nipple with his teeth. He tugged.
“Be good and I won’t tease,” Allie breathed.
He sighed. “The Code was written afore St. Columba, lass, an’ I dinna ken the reasons behind it. But in past ages, t’was a grave heresy to consort with the old gods—an’ to have godly powers. In that time, men were outlawed, excommunicated, hanged or burned for such sins. No Master then would walk openly. Today, we dinna walk openly, either.”
Allie slid off of him, ignoring his surprise. This was too damned